


Locker-Room Talk

by sarken



Category: The Closer
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Locker Rooms, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-14
Updated: 2016-09-14
Packaged: 2018-08-30 10:49:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8530153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarken/pseuds/sarken
Summary: Sharon and Brenda catch up in the middle of a shift.





	

**Author's Note:**

> parcequelle asked for Brenda/Sharon and an underwater kiss for the Tumblr kiss meme, so here is a kiss that takes place under some water, which is _kind_ of close.
> 
> [Originally posted on Tumblr.](http://sarking.tumblr.com/post/150397464390/oops-i-have-no-idea-how-i-managed-that-one)

Sharon has been at work for nearly two days straight when the phone call comes in: she has ninety minutes to prepare for a press conference regarding her ongoing OIS investigation.

The phone is barely back in its cradle before Sharon is out the door, emergency overnight bag in hand. Vain as it sounds, she'll be damned if she's giving a press conference -- a _national_ press conference -- with hair that hasn't been washed in three days, or in a suit that's two different shades of black. CNN won't see a public servant who got called to work in the middle of the night and dressed in the dark; Fox won't see an investigator who has spent two days running her hands through her hair in frustration. They'll see carelessness, incompetence; they'll use her appearance to cast doubt upon her work.

She won't let them do that, not to her or her team, and she repeats that over and over as she steps into the shower in the women's locker room. As much as she hates availing herself of it, she's glad it's an option -- there was a time the handful of women on the force had no choice but to shower and change with the men. She still remembers standing there in a towel, dripping and furious, shouting at Andrews and Provenza after one very bad shift.

But a women's locker room is still a locker room, and Sharon tenses beneath the water when the outer door slams open, destroying the relative privacy of her mid-shift shower. She immediately starts to hurry through rinsing her hair, but then she hears a litany of curses wrapped in a Georgia accent.

"It's me," Sharon is about to call, but Brenda steps into view, and even without her glasses, what Sharon sees makes it hard not to laugh and impossible to speak. Brenda is covered in streaks, smudges, and splatters spanning all shades of red. It's darker in her hair and paler where her clothes would be, and her face, neck, and calves are stained the most vivid, cheerful crimson Sharon has ever seen.

Brenda's _expression_ , however, is thundercloud grey, and Sharon ducks her head to hide her smirk, wiggling her toes as she watches the water run toward the drain.

The shower beside her hisses on, and when the water by Brenda's feet takes on a pinkish hue, Sharon can't take it -- she has to ask. She puts on her most casual, disinterested tone and keeps her eyes fixed on her feet. "What happened?"

"Murder in a candy factory."

Sharon _tries_ to hold back her laugh, but it bursts out anyway, part snort, part sputter. She sneaks a sideways glance at Brenda, who is scrubbing roughly at her stained skin, and has to muffle giggles behind her hand.

"It ain't polite to laugh at a naked, angry woman, Captain."

"Oh, I am truly sorry, Chief," Sharon says when she gets her laughter under control, but she isn't sorry in the least. This is _Brenda_ , covered from head to toe in candy. There's nothing to be sorry about. "I just assumed this was a childhood dream come true."

A hint of a smile creeps onto Brenda's face. "Half true, maybe."

Sharon tilts her head. "Half?"

"I always liked cherry better than strawberry."

Brenda's smile breaks into a grin, and Sharon's laugh is gentle and warm. There are times she is almost unbearably fond of this woman.

"Come here," Sharon says, and when Brenda inches closer, Sharon gently wipes a stubborn smudge from Brenda's jaw, just left of her chin. It seems a shame not to kiss her, so Sharon gently lifts Brenda's chin and covers her sugar-sweetened lips with her own, kissing her until every last trace of strawberry is gone.

Sharon pulls away, but Brenda still stands there, half out of her shower's spray, and bites her own lip, drawing it into her mouth. She sucks at it with that look of close-eyed bliss she saves for sweet indulgences, running her tongue over it as she slowly opens her eyes.

"You comin' home tonight?" Her voice is thick like honey.

Sharon shakes her head, and the shower knobs squeak when she turns the water off. "Tomorrow," she says, and she leans into the spray of Brenda's shower to steal one more lingering kiss. "But I'll bring something cherry and make it worth the wait."


End file.
